Make Amends
by RomanticTimeTraveler
Summary: In every lifetime there are some loose ends to tie up and 20 year old Coraline Jones is no exception. When the Beldam, who is intertwined in her own cruel web of fate tempts the poor girl we can only imagine what or who is holding her back.
1. Memory

**A/N:_Happy three day weekend everyone!!! I think we all can agree, Columbus is WILD!! I know I haven't updated "My Friends" for a while but I could not get this one story out of my head! I hope to get the next chapter up soon but first a little Coraline/Wybie fic courtesy of me. I hope you like it!_**

**DISCLAIMER:I only own the DVD, and the plot so PLEASE DON'T SUE**

**__****~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~  
**  
_  
__*Midnight, not a sound from the pavement. Has the moon lost her memory? She is smiling alone*_

From the waterlogged sky fell a drizzle of rain, coating the small town of Ashland in a light silver mist. It was late so most of the shops were closed and all the houses were dark and secure. Despite the ungodly hour the old-fashioned street lamps had not yet been put out, but the only one up and about to witness their fatalistic glow was a young women named Coraline Jones.

The 20 year old's too small rain boots squeaked under the wet sidewalk, as she strolled aimlessly down the deserted street. She stopped only once at the crosswalk, stuffing her hand in her rain coat's pocket, contemplating if the small wad of cash was enough for a room at the town's inn. The orphanage was always an option, a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her. For despite the first few rebellious and disrespectful years the owners would always be happy to see her and welcome her with open arms.

During her visits she ignored the awe-struck looks from the little children and the boasting praise she received whenever the owners pointed out the bulletin board, tacked with newspaper clippings and pictures all about her and the mark she left on the, once gloomy place. If you ever wander into the modest establishment and inquire about young Coraline, watch how the two middle-aged women swell with pride and make a dramatic gesture out one of the story high windows. Outside, if the glass is not foggy with condensation you just might see a beautiful and colorful garden, full of wild flowers and a large dark blue gardening shed.

The owners will say how they still remember the day she came to the orphanage, dressed in her rain gear and carrying her floral suitcase. Now many young orphaned children carry pictures, a stuffed animal, or some kind of memorabilia from their past life but Miss. Jones had only her bus stop hat and her gardening tools.

Coraline remembers the barrier she established between her and the other children, the plight of loneliness she brought onto herself and how any attempts at socialization would be fitted with a dry humored or sarcastic tone. The only time that she did seem happy was when she was gathering wild flowers from the park development or drawing on bits of scrap paper, which most of the time was the case because of the terrible weather in the small town.

Late at night, the other children would watch intently from the doorway of Coraline's room as the strange girl drew on the back of soup labels or sticky notes late into the night. In the light of the single bedside lamp they would study her stern and relieved facial expression as she tacked her newest creation above her desk and under the one lone window that allowed moonlight into the small room. Even with the lamp turned off the peeping kids could still admire the drawing in the light of the full moon. One particular night Coraline drew a large picture of a perfectly square building made of grey limestone and with a muddy, almost bare lawn. Her new home, the Ashland town orphanage.

The crowd of spectators at her door were puzzled at her sudden change in style for her art. The new drawing looked dull next to all the other small and colorful doodles of the sun, the moon, bugs, and flowers. They decided it was because the other drawings were colored in. "She must not be finished with it." They said.

And boy were they right, for the very next day Coraline tore the drawing down from the wall and erased all of ground, replacing it with **flowers. **Lilies, roses, and daffodils were drawn all over the sketch and colored in later that night. The children were still confused at her antics. They would whisper late at night while the odd child slept in her bed. "Its a lovely drawing but what does it mean?"

All became clear the very next day when the young artist went out in the pouring rain with her gardening tools and a small bag of seeds she collected during all those trips to the park. Some scoffed and others, mostly her admirers watched as she planted her dream deep into the soggy earth. She resembled some sort of blue-haired nymph fluttering about the property, tending to her garden. She even did extra chores around the house so that at she could raise money for more flowers, and grass seed.

She seemed more down to earth, and inspired than she had been throughout her entire stay. She would wake up earlier than everyone else just so that she could get out before anyone else and in any kind of weather. Most of the time she would come back soaked to the bone and poison oak all down her arms but no body objected to her extended recess, not even the owners. They would invite Coraline to their office and treat her skin irritation as they listened to her excited chatter about the small sprouts that had begun to show.

By mid-spring the garden was in full bloom and the children's curiosity peaked. They joined Coraline outside. The yard was large enough for all the children to vent their boredom and unused creativity. Coraline didn't seem to mind though, she continued along, and over the years gardening became a yearlong event at the establishment. The owners put money towards buying gardening tools for everyone, they gave kids seeds as prizes for good behavior, and they held garden parties for the charities that donated money towards the orphanage.

The orphanage soon became the greenest place in all of Ashland and members of the the press were drawn to it like lost nails to a magnet. The children and owners had never seen such a proud expression on Coraline round face as she answered the reporter's questions and posed happily as they snapped pictures of her cutting the ribbon to the new gardening shed. Bright lights and the sound of pencils writing rapidly on the reporters small pads of paper filled the garden for a long time but as winter rolled around, the crowds died along with the flowers.

But this didn't faze Coraline. She returned to her drawing corner as soon as the first frost set in, but this time with a large scrapbook filled with flowers she pressed and preserved. Using the book as a guide she drew blue prints for next year's garden for everyone to admire and as soon as spring began they all started on her beautifully drawn plan.

The gardening tradition lived on even when Coraline left on her own free will, on her eighteenth birthday. She was an adult and she felt more than ready to travel beyond the orphanages iron gates so she packed up her things (She left all of her drawings) and headed down the path. As she strolled through the garden, her garden for the last time she looked back at one little girl who was trying to plant a tulipbulb with a small hoe and failing miserably.

"Use a shovel," She suggested to the wide-eyed child. "I'm sure you will have a much easier time." The young girl picked up the small gardening tool and looked up to thank her but when she did, she saw that Coraline had already left. A cool early spring breeze traveled through the property and it whispered as it ran through the curtains of ivy. _Good bye._

Coraline's luck hadn't improved much since then. She travel all over town from busy main streets and big corporations to small town squares and suburbs, taking small jobs as she moved along. Now the young women was, quite literally standing at the crossroads wondering, "Well what now?"

She was brought out of her trip down memory lane by a few drops of moisture that had landed on the back of her hand. She looked up at the darkening sky and another drop landed on the bridge of her nose. Wiping it away she ran for cover from the rain that had started to come down in sheets. Luckily she found a small store that had forgotten to retract the large awning that stretched over the sidewalk.

Dry and under the protection of the cloth canopy, Coraline placed her suitcase next to her and she sat, leaning against the brick wall behind her. She watched as the heavy rain drops fell around her and pelted the flames of the streetlamps. As the light around her dimmed she listened to the steady plop-plop of water hitting the pavement. The sound was serene and comforting and like everything else in the young women's life, gone in an instant when a crash echoed down the dark alley next to her.

Coraline's eyes widened as a trash can lid rolled out from the alley on its side and collapsed right in front of her. Grasping her things and the lid she ventured into the dark alley alone. A flickering floodlight showed her a long row of metal trash cans and a pile of boxes thrown haphazardly against the wall but there was no perpetrator to the loud crash that still rang in Coraline's ear. Traveling further into the alley she heard a low growling that made her skin crawl. She was just about to place the lid on the ground and leave when out of the mountain of boxes jumped a gaunt black cat. He meowed lowly making Coraline turn and lock eyes with him. Now feeling relieved, Coraline waved airily and regarded him with a smile.

"Hello." She said taking a step towards him but as soon as she did he tensed and jumped off the large box he was sitting upon. "Wait!" She called after him as he bolted down the alley. "Its ok, I wont hurt you." He was almost out of the alley when she asked him "Are you lost?" His battered ears perked up and he turned around. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a packet of pepperoni, her only food, and offered him a slice.

"Its ok, I'm lost too." The black cat slinked towards her and sniffed the food between her fingers before taking it into his mouth. She popped a piece into her own mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. It was then, she saw a dirty piece of string tied around his neck and a small name tag dangling from it. The friendly feline allowed Coraline to reach under him and bring the flat, metal disk into the light. She raised her eyebrows as she read his name.

_"CAT"_

Cat nuzzled her hand affectionately and Coraline smiled at the creatures sudden warmness towards her and from the fact that the tag also had an address printed on the back. "Well come on." she held out her arms to him and he allowed her to pick him up. The odd pair traveled out of the alley and much to their delight, the rain had lessened during their introduction to each other. Coraline had a small smile on her face as she carried the warm bundle of fur in her arms. She pointed one finger out in front of them.

"Onward!" She laughed at her own antics and read off the tag. "To 146 Applegate Drive." Otherwise known as _The Pink Palace._

_*Someone mutters in the street lamp's gutters and soon it will be morning* _

_**~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~  
**__**  
My gawds! This chapter has to be the longest thing I have ever published. So I hope you get the main idea. Coraline's parents didn't survive "the accident" and now shes off to the Pink Palace. Wybie will be in the next chapter, which I hope to finish by next week but you never know. :D Please read and review and I hope everyone has a wonderful week!**_

_**Autumn Eve 333 **_


	2. Lonely Landlord

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaaaaaack! School has been murder lately but don't fret. I haven't given up on this fic yet. I am so happy that you all liked the story. Your reviews only encourage me to write more, so keep 'em coming! Oh, and I forgot to mention that the quotes in the last chapter are from "Cats" the musical's Memory. I thought it was fitting for the story and I don't own any of Webber's work that is mentioned in this chapter. If I did I would make it so that the Phantom and Christine ended up together. And I don't own Harry Potter or ABC. But enough of my rambling! Story Time!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine so please don't sue meh!**

_**~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~**_

Wyborn Lovat, the landlord of the humble "Pink Palace" cocked his head to the side and studied the sight before him. It was dawn and the entire property was bathed in beautiful autumnal colors, old mangled apple trees cast odd shadows on the dirt path beneath them, and the sky was streaked with light pinks and purples.

The young man rubbed his eyes in an attempt to banish the blurred edges from the otherwise perfect picture. The whole yard had a certain foggy sense to it so Wybie had to step lightly to avoid the many potholes in the weathered pathway, leading into the orchard. He supposed it was just hereditary, but Wybie loved looking at natural beauty. Blooming flowers, a tadpole becoming a frog, or the tedious work of a robin building it's nest was magical in its own way and he intended to satisfy his curious mind, watching and committing every step of the process to his memory.

A nature obsessor like him couldn't resist the wonder that was the sky at early morning. Magic like that only happened once everyday and for a very short time. Oh, how he wished he could steal the brilliant colors out of the fuzzy abyss, keeping them close so that the majestic sight was for him alone. Wybie cursed himself for such a selfish thought and wished desperately that someone else was there to see the sun rise above the foothills in the distance.

He swore that his wish was granted when, in front of the red, rising sun, a familiar, feline silhouette appeared. Wyborn's heart swelled with happiness as the four-legged creature slinked towards him. He could almost hear his little friend's paws scraping against the cobblestone pathway, He tried to call the creature's name but he couldn't find his voice, which had changed to a low velvety tone over the years. It had changed. Just like him.

Wyborn Lovat was no longer the scrawny, loosely-put-together teenager he once was. After the first few years of adulthood he had finally grown into his large hands and feet but he was still in possession of a slightly hunched back. If his Grandma was still around, she would no doubt nag him about having poor posture as a kid and it finally coming back to slap him upside the head. But she had long departed from this world. She had left him almost everything she owned, including "The Pink Palace."

But the newly dubbed landlord was too distracted to think of his duties and countless tenets he would have to help by mid-morning. He was far to preoccupied with the return of his friend. A soft purr threw all doubts from his head and he made a mad dash towards his cat. He reached out a gloved hand to welcome him home but just when he was about to pet his feline friend, the creature looked up and instead of the brilliant blue eyes he was used to, _two jet black buttons were sewn in place._

Wybie gasped and jolted awake, his alarm clock rang loudly in his ear. He sat up and looked around. He was still breathing heavily from the shock, brought on by the horrifying dream. His bare chest rose and fell with each needy and ragged breath. It was then Wybie realized that the alarm was still buzzing like a foghorn, giving him a rather horrific headache. He seized the confounded object and threw it against his bedroom wall. It smashed upon contact and left an ugly mark on the forest green paint job.

He sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands, the tips of his wide digits brushed against the few loose curls that fell from the crown of his head. His dear friend Cat had been gone for two weeks and as much as he had tried to ignore it, the devastating thought that Cat would never return home was slowly slipping into his subconscious. Groaning at this realization, he rolled out of bed and closed the blinds so that he could get ready for his day.

_He didn't spare one look at the sunrise outside his window._

_**~(^.,.^)/~**_

By the time Wybie dressed, pulled his curly mop into a ponytail, and had breakfast it was still early morning and he'd be damned if he didn't use this jump start to his advantage. He grabbed his leather jacket and headed out to the garage where he kept his motorcycle. It was a mangled thing, made and repaired with parts he found at the dump and the leftovers from his beloved childhood dirt bike. But the young man was proud of it just the same. After he fastened the helmet over his head he sat on the torn, leather seat and started the cycle up. It hummed contently and Wybie smiled as he rode out of the garage and onto the cobblestone driveway.

Over the soft roar of the engine he could hear the robins singing to the world around them. He watched as the birds paired off and flew beside him, dipping up and down against the cold morning wind. Once he had eased into the swing of things, the way his bike tilted and weaved as he gunned down the hill, he began to relax and enjoy the ride. Zigg-zagging down the road, purposely hitting every bump, Wybie traveled neck-breaking speed to the end of the property, all the while trying to push the dream out of his mind.

Finally, he got to his destination, the mail box.

As the landlord, he had many duties to perform around the "Pink Palace" and for the house's occupants. From heavy maintenance jobs like repairing the shingles on the roof, harvesting apples from the orchard, to simple errands and favors the people living in the old apartments would ask of him. One of those simple, easy jobs was delivering each tenet's mail to them, so he parked his motorcycle and did a routine check of the continence of each tacky, labeled mailbox. He took several white envelopes (Most likely bills.) from his own separate mail holder before he moved on to the others.

He hummed a nameless tune as he dumped all the magazines, letters, and one medium sized package into the basket he had welded to the back of the seat and started up the road to the Pink Palace. He lessened the pressure on the gas pedal so his precious bike wouldn't strain to ride over the steep hills and valleys that he had sped so carelessly down not fifteen minutes ago.

The property had not changed much since he was a boy. Even in the wake of another hot and humid summer the ground stayed soggy and infertile, as just in the dead of winter. Patches of grass were spread here and there, the garden was overrun by weeds, rocks clung to the sides of the mountainous terrain, threatening to fall onto the path, and even the rotted stump near the old well stood firmly in place after all those years.

The buildings on the property had not been renovated since the blizzard of 1908, when the entire roof on his grandmother's own charming townhouse, (Located a quarter of a mile from the old well.) was blown off. But aside from that and the restoration of the apartments in the boarding house, when indoor plumbing and electricity was installed, they remained the same.

Not that Wybie was complaining. On the contrary, he loved logging in his grandma's old home. As much as he would like to believe that he had matured over the years and that he was no longer interested in exploring dark creepy places or spending his free time hunting an arrange of bugs that inhabited the property, the mere fact that he still lived in the old place and not in an apartment in town showed that he still had a childish interest in the house. He adored the wooden outer walls and window shutters, painted Dark green, his favorite color. He still entertained himself by studying his grandma's knic-knacks, that sat and were continuously dusted up on the house's many shelves and he spent hours in the house's attic, going through old boxes of clothes and other objects of importance to the deceased landlady.

The Pick Palace loomed in the distance and as he slowed to a stop he turned and hit a large muddy puddle, whooping at the top of his lungs as dirty water splashed all around him. No, Wyborn Lovat hadn't changed in the slightest. He stopped the bike and parked it. His black sneakers were covered in mud like the rest of him but the mail was miraculously clean. He gathered it up in his arms, but not before he patted down the loose strands of hair that had escaped from their elastic band of a prison.

"Wybie!" He looked up and saw a short girl in a floral night gown, standing near the stairs to the lower apartment, and shaking an umbrella coated with mud. He smiled and with his arms full of mail, he ran to the annoyed tenet.

"Good mornin' Kristin!" He exclaimed happily. Kristin closed the obnoxious, red umbrella and shot him a teasing look.

"Good Mornin'? Wybie, your idea of a "good mornin'" might include bein' covered in mud," She wiped a spot of dirt from her sleeping attire and at the same time, displaying the many tack rings she wore daily on both her hands. "But for sure, mine doesn't. So kindly keep me out of it!" Wybie laughed at his friend's germ phobic antics.

"Why Miss. Spink! What on earth are you doing out of bed?" he joshed her. "Is that good for nothing niece of yours sleeping-in again?" She stuck out her tongue and pouted when he started to laugh again.

"Really Wybourn." She attempted a trademark, dramatic gesture she had often seen her aunts perform. "_Just look at you!_ Now, wot would your dear Grandmother say?"

He smiled sheepishly and handed her the package. "Uhhhh, Here's your mail?"

The grimy landlord studied his appearance, charcoal colored sweater and baggy jeans, both smeared with dirt, as Kristin dusted off some imaginary filth from the top of the box. She shrieked in surprise as she read the packaging label.

"Finally, it's 'ere!" She hugged the cardboard square to her chest and jumped excitedly. Wybie, who was trying to arrange the rest of the house's mail in his arms so he wasn't in danger of dropping a crisp white letter into the mud below, watched her with confusion. She gave him one last radiant smile and thanked him before running into the downstairs apartment.

"What is it?" He ran after her, his curiosity getting the better of him again. He was careful not to trip on the wet, stone staircase and caught the door with his foot before it closed. The vertically challenged blonde had forgotten about him and his arms, currently in a state of uselessness in her excitement. Slowly he inched the door open and stumbled into the dimly lit room.

Tea lights were scattered all about the apartment, their flames flickering from the cold gust of wind that followed him into the room. The shelves that were once occupied by the owner's stuffed, departed dogs were cleared and in their place, more posters of the elderly actresses (_Which Wybie could tell, were still asleep because the telly in the other room was turned off and there was not the constant clicking of Miss Spink's knitting needles_.) and a few statues, music pieces; yellow with age, and one record player accompanied the framed photos and were all dusted neatly by Kristin.

With two noisy dogs underfoot, she bustled to the dark wood coffee table and proceeded with doing away with the many packaging pieces in the box. Wybie made himself as comfortable as possible on the ancient sofa and watched as she dug vigorously into the cardboard box. The Styrofoam peanuts fluttered to the floor and into the paws of the over-enthusiastic schnauzers. Fearful that his friend's pets would try to sample them, Wybie pushed the canines away and began to pick the pieces that had fallen near him. The landlord was mid-reach under the table when suddenly...

"AH-HA!" Kristin's exclamation was accompanied by a loud bang, Wybie came up from under the blasted piece of furniture and rubbed the back of his head where there was no doubt a large bump forming. Deciding he had suffered enough, Wybie grabbed the thin paperback from the girl's hands.

**"Wybie!"**she shrieked and tried to retrieve her new score.

"Relax! I'm clean, I'm clean!" He placed his hand on her stomach, holding her back while straining to read the cover page in the dim light around him.

_**"LOVE NEVER DIES"  
**BY Andrew Lloyd Webber_

**"Tha-ah! I'm not kiddin', Wybourn! Give it back!"**

He cocked an eyebrow at his still squirming friend, then he flipped through the first few pages of the book. The complicated music notes made his head ache. He was mid-measure when Kristin, painfully poked him in the stomach and loudly whined,

"Wyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyybiiiiiiie! Please, give it back." She fell limp as a rag doll and tried to look as pathetic as possible. Wybie gladly handed the score back to his friend, smiling apoligeticly. She joined him on the couch, reading with much more enthusiasm than the sour landlord. He could only watch and imagine what beautiful ballad she was piecing together in her head. His eyes widened as she began to hum the Phantom's bitter love song in a matter of minutes.

_The day starts. The day ends. Time crawls by, midnight spent pacing the floor. The moments creep but I can't bear to sleep, till I hear you sing again._

"I can't believe you can make sense of that mess!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the seemingly random scribbles on the page. She smiled and almost lovingly placed the score, open on the coffee table. Then she motioned for Wybie to come closer.

"S'not that 'ard." They both hovered over the page and Kristin pointed to a half note on the bar. "See, now that's a G." She hummed the note and then went down the line explaining how to match notes with sounds. When Wybie still didn't get it, the young musician scrambled to the other side of the apartment and pulled out her purposely concealed saxophone. She crossed the room again, more aware of her aunt's bedroom door _(It was more a curtain of stringed beads then an actual divider.)_The soft snores assured the jittery girl that the elderly actresses were still asleep so she ventured out of her room and down the hall, into the living room. She smiled at her reflection in the shiny brass surface before adjusting the shoulder strap over her.

"Look at this." She said as her fingers changed positions on the instrument, pressing down on different keys. "When I apply pressure to certain keys, it creates different sounds or notes that match up with those on the paper. All you have to do is recognize which note is which." Wybie squinted, trying to read in the dim light.

"Well, that's easy for you to say. You're the human pitch pipe!" He spread his arms and wiggled his fingers to suggest her vast knowledge of music was inhuman. She rolled her eyes and held her instrument snugly between her knees, trying a few experimental notes. The sax produced a low wail. Wybie sat up and shrugged on his jacket. His mind traveled to his grandmother's parlor and how it was always filled with old, classical music. He remembered many a rainy day when he would curl up on the elderly landlady's sofa and allow the music to lull him to sleep. Different instruments, all coming together for a musical climax.

"Do the same rules apply to every instrument?"

Kristin combed her hair with her fingers. "That much is true... Music is like learnin' to talk, it shows emotion and the way it's played, on wot its played, each instrument is like a teacher. They have their own methods of learnin' young musicians." The landlord raised his eyebrows and leaned against the archway that was covered by an old, red curtain. "Because instruments are crafted differently they 'ave to be played accorin' to their design. For instance, I couldn't play a guitar the same way as my sax. You 'ave to make your own kind of music"

Wyibe nodded in understanding and started to gather all of the mail he had placed unceremoniously on a lion claw end table. Kristin rose and helped him, at the same time grabbing a light blue scarf, which rested lifelessly on the coat hanger, and wound it around his scrawny neck.

"S' gettin' cold out there. Promise you'll bundle up more." Another nod from the young man. Not ready to face the cold tenet that awaited him upstairs or the weather, Wybie hung in the doorway. A sleepy grumble was heard from the other room and Kristin bolted, snatching the score and sax, and hid it behind the couch. He watched as she bent over the tearing Victorian furniture, a necklace dangled from her neck. Wybie suddenly turned very pale. On the back of her nightgown were three jet black buttons, sewn perfectly into place. Almost dropping the glossy magazines under his arm, he grabbed the curtains for support.

The dream and reality came crashing back to him, he couldn't hide in the Pink Palace with his friend from the world. It seeped through the cracks in the foundation on the wall like the damp cold. A soft noise that resembled a groan slipped from his mouth and he held the dusty, velvet material tighter.

"Wybie..." Kristin finally noticed her friend's plight. She walked cautiously up to him, he didn't acknowledge her presence until she placed a hand on his clammy forehead. "Are you all together? You look a bit unhinged."

He swatted her hand away. Muttering something intelligible, he released the curtains from his death grip, and made a dash for the door. Kristin stopped him. She grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face her. Eyes as blue the wild berries that grew on the side of the road shown concern. His mind froze and he felt like a confused, stuttering little kid again. He couldn't return his friend's gaze knowing those blasted buttons were behind her, mocking him in his loneliness. As if she could read the man's mind...

"Love, you 'ave been so good to 'im. Now you 'ave to understand, we've done close to everythin'. 'Ung up flyers, called around, even a report at the bloody police department. Someone will find the poor dear sooner or later and if not, 'e'll find 'is way 'ome."

The landlord studied a scab on the back of his hand. "That cat adores you. 'E's your friend." Wybie was silent for a moment before he covered her small hand with his own and gave her a small reassuring smile.

"Thanks, you're my friend too." She laughed lightly.

"You know, more cats come 'ome on their own each year than cats that are found by people. "

"I-I, know. I told you that. " Wybie smiled weakly at his friend while she opened the door for him.

"Com'on now. Its nearly mid-morrnin', we 'ave wasted all this time talkin'."

"Well excuse me. It's not my fault that I enjoy listening to you ramble on about scores and notes or whatever" He gestured with his free arm as he walked outside.

Once the door was closed he gave the foggy figure in the window a small wave goodbye before walking up the stairs to the upmost apartment. Kristin watched him go. Wybie the landlord, her friend, and tormentor. The soft chirp of a rouge cricket, trying to escape the cold played a slow tune and she closed her eyes to its bliss and simplicity. Ever since she moved in with Miss. Spink and Forcible she found little peace or time for herself. Time when she was all alone and was free to play the blues without her aunt's disapproving eyes upon her. She sighed as she walked into the kitchen. She began to prepare breakfast- toast with apricot jam, a bowl of taffies along with a chisel and hammer to break off the confection from it's comrades, and a pot of tea.- As she stirred her artificial sweetener into the china cup she noticed an odd clump of leaves, forming at the bottom.

She made a promise to herself to ask the elderly actresses what they meant after their meal together. Now if the young woman would have looked at the cup at a different angle or drank some of the dark watered drink she would have seen, quite clearly, an open suitcase. The sign of a new, earth shattering change. The television in the aunt's room could be heard from the kitchen. ABC was having another "Harry Potter" Marathon and the ever familiar theme floated down the hall like a graceful bird of prey.

_Something wicked this way comes._

_**~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~**_

**AN/: Oh My GOD! I can't believe how many hits this fic has got! I am so happy that you all enjoyed the story so far and I would like to take this time to thank my LOVELY REVIEWERS!**

**Mattie Scary-_ello luv! I was actually in lunch when I first saw your review. As the very first one, I may have gotten a little over excited...XD! The look on my friend's face and your message made my day, which is why it is my greatest disappointment that there is no Wybaline in this chapter. Hang in there! Its coming! Thanks again!_**

**The Capslock Savior-_ello luv! Thank you soooooooooo much for reviewing this baby fic! It really means alot to me and I am thrilled to bits that you like it so much! So wait no longer! Enjoy and don't worry. The next chapter will be up soon!_**

**AndJustForgetTheWorld_- ello luv! Bitter sweet, like dark chocolate or a cool glass of lime-aid, a scorned ex lover. Sorry about that. My poetic side is rather hard to control when I am excited. Why you ask? Because you reviewed silly! I'm glad you like the story so far, and sad was definitely where I was going with the last chapter. Hope you find this one a litter on the brighter side though. Thanks again! ~HUGGLES!~_**

**HalfBrachenDemon- _ello luv! Well I certainly am glad that this fic is "lookin' good!" As a nerd, complements for my work just make my heart go WA-POW! I hope you find this chapter as good as the first. Its been just gah to write and edit but the final outcome is for you, the readers to decide. THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!_**

**Norn-_ello luv! Thanks for reviewing hun and yes, the dvd is incredible but I find the book just as entertaining. I don't know if you love books to such a level, as I do but I got all tingly as I read the end. Its amazing how the written word can do that. Oh, I pray for the day when my work has that effect on people. The review is greatly appreciated! Thanks again!_**

_**Also a huge thank you to all who faved me and the story, that didnt review. (ally123456, maternalluv20, and Pashmeanie) I hope to hear from you guys soon! THANK YOU EVERYONE!**_

_**Please read and reveiw! I GOTS DA BUG!**_

_**RomanticTimeTraveler (Changed my pen name so nobody freak out plz**_


	3. Tick, Tick, Boom

**A/N: **

**Disclaimer: Yeah I totally own this. "Wow sarcasm! That's original!"- Dr. Horrible's sing-along blog!**

_**~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~ ~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~ ~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~**_

"Wait up, you...stupid cat!" the young woman gasped in between irregular intakes of oxygen. An exhausted Coraline ran down the path into the orchard after one very excited feline. She could only watch as her guide weaved through gnarled trees and swaying grass but, however determined she was to go the distance, the cold, early spring air sliding down her throat and increasing weight of her suitcase was beginning to make the journey difficult.

Without thinking, she hung her suitcase on a low branch and, feeling slightly less burdened, she continued on without it. After getting back on the road she looked back on the faded child's carry-on swinging to and fro, she sighed with envy. Scrambling uphill, tripping on damp stones, she cursed herself for participating in the incredible wild goose chase the evening was evolving into.

After a long day of searching for the cat's home, the odd pair had found the old orchard, on which the owner of the property lived.

Coraline stood, utterly confused. She couldn't see over the tall hills and wild shrubs that grew around them, the only sign that anyone lived in that brush was the dirt path that led up to the orchard. She checked Cat's name tag again and was about to turn around when Cat jumped from her arms and scampered down the mushy path. Coraline followed him as he bolted away from her. What else was she to do that day? Get a job? Work her arse off for minimum wage?

She ran after him willingly.

But the woman soon discovered the physical condition she was in as the speedy creature led the way through the groves of trees and crumbling brick walls that lined the trail. Her brown hair flew wildly behind her as she tried to keep up. After they had run for what it seemed like miles, Cat jumped abruptly onto one of the walls and sat, waiting patiently for his new friend to catch up. As she slowed to a stop she hunched forward and grasped her upper knees for support as her heart rate steadied.

"Wha-what? Is...this...it?" She asked breathlessly while studying her surroundings. There were no houses in sight, only the setting sun in the distance. Her mind, deprived of oxygen tried to remember how long they had been on the move.

Cat purred and thumped the spot on the wall next to him with his long, crooked tail. Coraline looked around the orchard, in case there were any passer-byers that could witness her taking orders from a mere mangy cat but they were alone. She lifted herself up on the brick fence so that she sat next to her new animal companion. Her legs swung limply in front of her and she cocked her head to the side, studying the variety of overgrown weeds below.

"What on earth are you doing?" She asked as he tried to stand on his hind legs, only to swagger dangerously, and returning to all fours. He looked to her expectantly She watched as he nuzzled her side with his head, pushing her a bit. She leered back, at the same time catching a glimpse of what appeared to be, peaking over a particular tall hill... A roster

A flat metal roster swung on it's rusty hinges as the wind blew, oddly reminiscent to a wind gauge...

like the ones found on old roofs.

The epiphany hit the young woman like a ton of crumbly bricks, which was the equivalent to what Coraline was scaling in her wet rain boots.

"Note to self:" She grumbled as she shakily stood at full height on top of the fence. "Swampers: not the best climbing gear." She spread her arms to gain some balance, one hand clenched a branch for support.

At her new elevated standpoint she could see the valley beyond and, right smack dab in the middle of it all, was an old-looking townhouse with a bad paint job. The house was light pink and had a wrap-around porch. It reminded her of the beach house she and her family rented for Christmas holiday.

"So that's where you came from, huh?"

Cat dragged his long claws down the denim material of her skinny jeans, begging to be picked up. She did so, allowing him to see her discovery and, in sheer delight he wiggled in her arms. She was half tempted to drop the animal into the puddle below when his claws scraped across her arm. He, as she discovered on the trip in the city, was not a fan of water. A smirk formed on Coraline's round face as she recalled how stubborn he had been to walk beside her on the wet sidewalk after the night's steady downfall of rain.

"If you don't want to get your feet wet Cat, than you better stop squirming." He hissed in response to her threat but stopped moving, allowing the young woman to observe the gaps in between the trees that could possibly be roads. She was amidst trying to trace the paths from her standpoint when a rumbling sounded near the horizon; too faint to rouse anyone's immediate attention. Cat's ears perked up.

Coraline was too absorbed in her own deep concentration, to notice the growing roar of a motor vehicle in the distance. Her amber eyes looked over the house with uncertainty. She leaned farther. Cat growled lowly at the familiar sound of a nearing rickety engine, and focused on the cloud of dust slowly rising over the hill behind the two of them.

"That place looks like it hasn't been lived in for a long time. What kind of freak would… "

The bike got closer and closer and suddenly, Cat jumped on the wiry figure riding the motorcycle.

_**"Snap," **_

Went the twig supporting most of Coraline's upper body weight and she fell hard into the thistle bushes below with a loud grunt, followed by a steady stream of curses. She landed on her back in a low bed of sharp thorns, making little incisions into her pale skin. As she twisted her midsection, she rolled further downhill, and into a small pond.

"Crap, crap! It's freaking cold!" She screamed once she surfaced. Coraline shivered as she waded out onto dry-er- land. Her auburn hair stuck to the sides of her face. Her clothes sagged from retaining so much water. She growled in frustration- her shirt was soaked through!

"Hello?" She called out. "HELLO?! Anyone?"

"Oh my gosh!" A man looked over the wall at Coraline. She couldn't make out his face but his hair was wild and sticking out every which way.

"Ah-are you alright?" The man stuttered nervously.

"What do you think? You almost killed me!"

"I'm so sorry! Wait there, I'll be right down." He disappeared from the wall then stumbled into view as he came down the path. He looked older than she originally thought. His skin was light brown and flushed with perspiration, his hands were shaking more than Coraline's entire drenched body. He quickly unzipped his jacket, offering it to her.

"I'm really sorry. My name's Wybie Lovat"

"So this is the freak who owns that house." Coraline laughed cruely inside, slipping on the old leather jacket. The young man's eyes were shifty and when he smiled, his face split in two. Suddenly Cat appeared at his side.

"Well, thank goodness you're okay. I'm fine thanks!" Coraline scolded the happy looking animal.

Wybie shifted his weight nervously. Something felt unsettling about this girl but, not in a bad way. She made him feel, taller… or something. "Say something Lovat! You almost ran her over for Christ sakes"

"Are you ok-kay?"

Coraline raised her elfish eyebrows at him. "Yeah." She wrung out her shirt. "Umm, Can I use your phone?"

_**~(^.,.^)/~**_

**Lolipear the WaltzQueen:**YESSS! You have been bitten too? Symptoms include wooziness, hallucinations of Wybie in a tux, carrying a rose, and a mighty urge to review this chapter! XD. Thanks for the review love!

**Queen Coraline of Randomness:**Thank you soooo much love! Your enthusiastic review truly made my day! BTW: I love your penname.

**DarkMasterofCupcakes: **I'm absolutely thrilled to bits that you love the story so much! I hate having updates so far apart but not to worry. I love Wybaline far too much to stop writing this story. I promise you there will be more fluff in the next chapter.

**RomanticTimeTraveler**


	4. Doilies at Dusk

**A/N: **

**OMGEEE New chapter :D**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything! **

**_~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~ ~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~ ~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~_**

By the time that the two young adults had climbed back onto the road, and dragged the broken bike to Wybie's home it was already late in the afternoon. They spoke not a word to each other; the only sounds that emanated from Coraline were the squeaks and squishes that her clothes made as she helped carry stray pieces of metal that had come off the bike in the wreck. Wybie had his own hands full with what remained of the bike's frame. Without all the extra junk, it looked like a normal tricycle. There were chips of red paint, hooks for a basket, and even the handle bars had bristles on the ends, which could have been ribbons so time ago.

"So, you made this thing yourself?" Coraline finally broke the silence. Wybie turned to look at the still, soaked twenty year old.

"Yeah. It.. I- I mean. I stated building it when I was a kid. My Dad used to be a mechanic so I got a few pointers from him." He laughed nervously.

"Neat." Coraline sniffed. "My Mom never would have let me ride something like that, no offence. It was just her way- she never let me do anything remotely dangerous."

She didn't know why she felt compelled to talk with this guy. He nearly killed her with that metal death trap of his but there she was- helping him carry the accursed thing across the orchard. Maybe it was just her way of satisfying her need for human companionship. They were silent for the rest of the walk to the Lovat home. Coraline noted with some relief that the house didn't look as creepy as the one back near the pond.

The exterior of the two floor house was covered in dark wood paneling and had forest green shutters on the first floor windows, the front porch was too big for the house but it was cramped with junk. Wrenches, nails in empty coffee cans, paint stained tarps were squished into corners of the railing. Coraline could see wood planks and paint cans under the deck, fenced in with white lattice. It had a work in progress feel that Coraline grudgingly consented was nice. Wybie sighed and leaned the bike against the one car garage.

"The phone…(A rumble of thunder interrupted the young man) the phone is inside."

"Thanks, can I?" She pointed to the front door, asking a question.

"Y- yes! Please. But, um. Could you leave your shoes outside?" Wybie trailed off, his head lowered. Coraline looked at her mud incrusted swampers.

"Sure" She said, picking a leaf off her right boot. She walked causally up to the porch.

"A lot of dangerous stuff up here." She muttered. Leaning against the outside wall, she managed take off her shoes. _"He's probably hoping I'll step on a rusty nail and get tetanus or something. That way I'll be too weak to fight back. I'll be cat food before help could find me."_ She laughed aloud at the absurdity of the idea.

The inside of the house was gloomy, but clean. The living room had a giant green chair and sofa and lace on every surface: lace curtains, lamp covers, table runners, and doilies for the arms of the couch. _"What kind of murderer can make doilies?"_ She mused on her way to the kitchen. She decided to call her landlady, whom she left in quite an angry state. Every other word out of the elderly woman's mouth had something to do with rent… or her bunions. Neither of which Coraline liked. While she was waiting Cat sulked around her legs, watching the dangling phone cord with playful eyes.

"_Beep beep beep beep- Click-"_

"Hello? Macintosh Inn- room and board." The hoarse voice of the lobby man emitted from the receiver.

"Hello, I'm a resident here and I was wondering if Mrs. M is available?" She twirled the phone cord between her thumb and pointer finger.

"She isn't Miss. She has been out all day." The girl's eye lit up like a child's in a toy store.

"When will she be-

_**Snap! **_

The phone suddenly went dead. Looking down, Coraline saw Cat had pulled the cord out of the phone.

"Shit!" She groaned, yanking the cord out of the feline's paws. Wybie suddenly entered.

"Anything wrong?"

"Yeah, the phone is broken. I'm sorry, he just grabbed the cord and-" Wybie took the phone and cord from out of the frustrated girl's hands. Laying them on the tiled counter, he said,

"Please, d- don't worry about it-t. He does this all the time. I've been meaning to get a wireless one, you know but-"

"Money, Time?" Coraline finished for him.

"Exactly…" He shifted his weight and leaned against the opposite wall. "Thank you for bringing him home."

Coraline nodded mutely, she racked her brain for scraps of her conversation with the lobbyist. _"She has been gone all day. If I can get back before she does, I'm guaranteed a room tonight. I'll never get past her otherwise."_ She thought.

Wybie panicked, taking her silence as anger or contempt. "I'm really sorry again for what happened, Coraline." She looked up at his earnest face.

"What kind of name is Wybie?" She asked. The question wasn't meant to be mean, she was only curious. He laughed with relief.

"It's short for Wybourn. My Dad's Grandfather's name."

"Wybourn Lovat." She repeated.

"And what about you…? Coraline…?"

"Jones, My last name is Jones." She stated, cracking her knuckles. This was a test she had given others since she was little. She liked to see who would be bothered by it. She usually got along better with those who didn't mind.

"That's a cool name… Cooler than mine, a-anyway." He didn't even blink.

"Well, I'll be on my way-" She started out when he stopped her.

"Wait!" His giant callous hand patted her shoulder, making her turn around. He reached into his pocket and placed a hundred dollar bill into her small palm. Her eye's lit up once more, then she backtracked.

"This is a lot for bring back a Cat." He mumbled something about a reward, he couldn't meet her eye.

"Hey, I'm up here!" She suddenly said "Did you hear me? I said this is a lot of money for just bringing that mangy Cat back to you."

"It's the least I can d-do. I'm.. I mean, after everything that's happened." He trailed off again. Coraline sighed and walked outside with the awkward young man, slipping the money into her back pocket. The sky was getting darker and darker- from both the setting sun and the gathering storm clouds. Coraline didn't seem to mind. She slipped on her swampers and headed down the path, with was bathed in golden light. Wybie sat on the front porch and watched her go. Cat slinked around his shoulders.

"I'm not sure I like the girls you bring home, Cat." He said with mock sternness to his feline friend. But something made him watch her until she had disappeared around the corner. The landscape: the hill, valleys and the monstrous branches that reached upward shivered along with Wybie. The tepid wind whispered inquisitively,

_**Coraline Jones**_

**_~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~ ~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~ ~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~_**

**A/N: **

**Thank you for sticking with the story! Maybe I'll write more soon. **

**Special thanks to TickletheToaster! Your review was really sweet and it made me want to finish this chapter today. So thanks! **

**RTT**

**_~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~ ~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~ ~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~_**


	5. Why, Oh Why, Oh Why'o

_**AN: Well here is the last chapter for a while. I'm starting school in a few days and I'm going to be crazy busy. I want to thank all of those who liked this story. I'll try and finish it... EVENTUALLY! **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't really own this but... Yolo.**_

_**~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~**_

_Available for rent- two bedroom, two bath, and a fully functional kitchen. Plenty of closet space, hardwood floors, and working wood fireplace. This house has a lot of old world charm._

Wybie stopped reading. He looked expectantly at his captive audience. Kristin was bored out of her mind and drowsy, but that was the rain's fault. The blond sank further into Wybie's easy chair and clicked her tounge.

"That's it?" She finally spoke.

"Well… yeah." Wybie scrolled down on his computer, re-reading the ad he wrote. "D-didn't you like it?"

"It's borin', Wybie. An ad should be chock full of fluff and excitin' details. Make them want the 'ouse!"

"Gosh Kristin, there really isn't anything special to tell about," Wybie pushed his laptop away, stretched on the floor, then rolled onto his back. "We should try fixing up the place before we print an ad anyway. W-what if people show up and… well the renovations aren't done or we get mice? I dunno, I just don't know."

"Don't worry your big, bushy 'ead. You wont get buyers anytime soon with that ad." She shrieked and ducked. She was under attack.

"I think I finally get why these things are called "Throw pillows", kristy!" Wybie laughed and hurled another one at her. This time she caught it mid-air. Shooting him a no nonsense look, she fluffed the thrown pillows and rearranged them on her chair.

"Wot I was tryin' to say is, we need to target a new audience." She straightened her shoulders and looked expectantly at her friend. Wybie sat up. He felt bad for Kristin sometimes. She had lived with her Dad for most of her life in London, when he felt that it was time for her to move out he suggested she visit her aunts in America. She left for Ohio five years ago. She could always move out but the two actresses have become so dependant on her, she couldn't bear to leave them alone again. She acts too old for her own good. Wybie shrugged her off.

"Tell them about the garden in the back, or 'ow the whole 'ouse goes apple pickin' each year." She rattled off ideas. Wybie got up and typed as she talked. "Oh! We could turn the study into a third bedroom!" She gushed

The landlord rubbed the back of his neck. "It's k-kinda small. But I guess." He resumed typing

"Well, what about a playroom?"

Wybie stopped suddenly; his fingers hovered over the keys. He scowled, as though he was deep in thought. "I dunno. Grandma never let couples with kids rent the house." He muttered, more to himself than his guest. He quickly added, in bold font

**Please, no children.**

"And save!" He closed the computer and smiled. "Let's see what we get."

_**~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~(^.,.^)/~**_

Ohio.

What was the first thing that came into your mind? Was it five star restaurants, crazy nightlife, or luxurious hotels?

The words that bombarded ten year old Coraline's psyche were more in the realms of

"Dump"

"Flat"

"Lonely"

The words that came out of her mouth, when her parents told her they were moving there were even worse.

"I don't even get to spend the summer with my friends!" She yelled from behind her bedroom door. The doorknob rattled, the enraged child had locked it after she slamming it in her parent's faces. The move wasn't easy on them either, but what could they have done?

"Coraline, please unlock the door." Her mother groaned. They were all packed, the moving van was parked outside, and the driver was getting impatient. The Jones had forty eight hours to get to their destination before they started charging extra.

"No," The child screamed on the other side. "It's my room. I'm allowed to be in my room if I want."

"Your room isn't even there. It's all loaded on to the truck." She answered back. She didn't even try to mask the annoyance in her voice. She sighed and turned to Charlie, massaging her temples. "You try."

HONK

"I'm coming! Would you relax?" Mrs. Jones yelled at the movers. "We are never calling them again." She pointed at her husband, her eyebrows scrunched together.

"It was one your friends that recommended them." He laughed half heartedly, and then he knocked on the door. "Awko Taco? You there?"

"Where else would I be?" Coraline grumbled.

"Well, me and your mother were hoping - in the car." He stepped back as the door opened slightly. He kneeled down to meet his daughter eye to eye.

"I don't want to go, Dad. All of my friends live here." She walked out into the hall, closing the door behind her. Her Dad noted that her hand still griped the door knob.

"And you think that there aren't nice kids in Ashland, Ohio?" Her Dad poked her nose. She scrunched up her face.

"Daaaaad. You know what I mean."

"Yes, girly whirly. I do." He offered her his hand. "We need to leave now…before your mom's head explodes." Coraline snorted and walked downstairs with him. Her fingers ran over the white, newly cleaned walls of her childhood home. She missed the old paint job the most. It made the house feel special, without it the place felt empty. It was a big, blank slate and she didn't like it. Charlie saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Your friends can come visit as soon as we get settled." He said carefully. Coraline let go of his hand and walked into what used to be the living room. She stared at the empty space, her arms crossed in front of her. Then she piled into her mom's car, slept for hours, argued some more with her parents, and they had a head on collision with a drunk truck driver.

A few years, eight bus rides, three crappy rentals, and one crazy day later Coraline managed to sneak back into her apartment without her landlady seeing her. She collapsed on her cot, in her clothes. She hated thinking ahead. She didn't want to think of where she would go if she was evicted in the morning. Luckily, the reward money would pay off a huge chunk of what she owed. She kicked off her rain boots and wrapped herself up in her coat. She'd play it by ear, as always.

_**~(^.,.^)/~**_

_**Please read and review**_

_**thanks much!**_

_**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**_

_**RTT**_


End file.
